The Thing In The Dark

by Caitvitimebomblover

Summary:

Vi had a traumatic sleep paralysis when she was 14; it didn’t happen again until she was sleeping with Caitlyn in bed

Chapter 1

Vi was fourteen when it first happened.

 

The whole house was asleep.

 

Vander was snoring softly up on the third floor, the comforting sound of his heavy breathing like distant waves crashing—strong, steady, unaware. Mylo and Claggor were passed out in the other bunk, dead to the world, both of them snoring in a way that made the old floorboards vibrate.

 

Powder lay just below Vi on the bottom bunk, small chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Her arms curled up around her stuffed rabbit, blue strands of hair tangled in her eyelashes.

 

It was quiet.

It was peaceful.

 

Vi had fallen asleep on her back, which she never did. She liked curling on her side, facing the wall or the edge, tucked in like a boxer in the corner of a ring. But tonight, the blanket felt too heavy. The air too warm. She’d dozed off awkwardly, flat against the mattress, arms splayed.

 

A few hours later, she woke up.

 

Not all at once. Not with a gasp. Not with a jerk.

 

Just… awake.

 

Her throat was dry, her tongue like paper. She wanted water. Badly. There was a bottle on the crate beside her bed—she could see it out the corner of her eye. A reach away.

 

She tried to sit up.

Nothing happened.

 

She blinked. Her heart jumped once, maybe twice. Her arms wouldn’t move. Her legs were glued down, heavy like stone.

 

She tried to roll. She couldn’t.

 

Her chest started to rise and fall faster, more shallow. Panic surged like ice water down her spine. Her heart pounded. Fast. Too fast. It was slamming against her ribs now, so violently she was convinced Powder would hear it.

 

Help me.

 

But her lips couldn’t move. Not even a whisper. Not even a twitch.

 

She could only move her eyes. Frantically, she scanned the ceiling. The bunkbed slats above her. The shadows in the corners.

 

That’s when she felt it.

 

A pressure.

 

It wasn’t just the paralysis. Something else was there. Sitting on her chest. Pinning her down. Crushing her lungs until her breaths were shallow gasps.

 

Then she saw it.

 

A shape.

 

In the corner of the room.

 

Tall. Thin. Its head bent unnaturally to the side. Its limbs wrong, too long, too sharp. Its fingers dragged across the wooden floor as it stepped forward. No sound. No face. Just a void where its eyes should be.

 

It was walking toward her.

 

No, no, no—

 

She tried to scream. Her mouth wouldn’t open. She tried to thrash, to kick, to call Powder’s name—nothing.

 

The thing was close now. So close she could smell it. Damp wood. Mold. Rot. Like something had been left in the walls too long.

 

It reached for the bunk bed. Its long, skeletal fingers curling around the frame. Climbing. Slowly. Each joint cracked as it pulled itself up.

 

Vi’s heart was racing so fast it was painful now. She was sure it had to be over 200 beats per minute. It felt like it was trying to explode out of her chest.

 

Then—

 

It disappeared.

 

Gone. Just like that.

 

But before relief could sink in—

 

Something cold gripped her neck.

 

The fingers.

 

They were around her throat now. Long. Knobby. Ice-cold. Pressing down, not choking—just holding. Possessive. Claiming.

 

And then—

 

It was on top of her.

 

Its weight sank into her, all limbs and shadows and the crushing silence of the dead of night. Its faceless head leaned in close, breathless and still.

 

Vi’s eyes were wide, chest struggling, body screaming even though it couldn’t.

 

And that’s where she stayed.

 

Trapped.

 

Eyes open. Heart pounding. Breath stuck.

 

The thing on her chest.

 

Watching… 

 

It got worse.

 

The pressure on Vi’s chest grew heavier, like wet cement poured into her lungs. Her ribs ached beneath it. Her heartbeat—already a brutal thunder inside her ears—pounded faster, faster, faster.

 

She couldn’t breathe.

 

The thing leaned closer. It didn’t have a face—but that changed. Slowly. Horribly.

 

Its skin started to stretch. The place where its mouth should be began to split open, skin peeling back like wet paper. What emerged wasn’t a human smile. It was a gash—rows of jagged, broken, dripping teeth that went too far up both cheeks. It grinned. Wide. Hungry. Wrong.

 

And then it spoke.

 

Not with a voice—with a vibration. The air shifted with a low, static hum. Garbled syllables, like it was trying to copy words without knowing what they meant. A horrible, broken attempt at language.

 

“v-viiii… sssstaaaayy… dowwwn… beeee…lonnnng…”

 

She tried to scream. Nothing came out.

 

Its hands were around her neck now. Cold fingers digging into her skin. It didn’t squeeze—not really. Just held her there. Possessive. Restraining. Like it could kill her, but wanted her to know it didn’t need to.

 

Her body was screaming for oxygen. Her vision blurred. Her head ached from the pressure building behind her eyes. Her ears rang. Her chest was on fire.

 

She wanted out.

 

She wanted Vander. She wanted him to kick down the door, say her name the way only he could, scoop her up and tell her it was just a nightmare.

 

She wanted Powder, to hear her little sister’s sniffling voice say “Vi?” and feel her small arms wrap around her waist.

 

She wanted her mom—who she barely remembered—but right now, she would’ve taken anyone.

 

And that’s when the tears came.

 

Silent. Hot. Sliding down the sides of her face into her hair.

 

She was crying.

Even if she couldn’t move—her body still wept.

 

She heard something shift in the room.

 

Hope, her mind whispered, frantic.

 

She moved her eyes as far as she could, her line of sight craning toward the edge of her bed. The bunk. The shadows.

 

There—movement.

 

Figures. Two.

 

Thank God, she thought. Someone’s awake.

 

But then the shapes stepped into the dull moonlight filtering through the broken blinds—

 

And her blood turned to ice.

 

It was them.

 

Mylo.

Claggor.

 

But not really.

 

Their outlines were twisted. Their heads tilted too far to the side. Their eyes—if you could call them that—were hollow, sunken voids. Their mouths stretched into mocking grins.

 

They were wearing her brothers like skin.

 

Just like the tall thing.

 

They walked slowly toward the bed, in sync. Arms dangling. Faces slack with rot.

 

The tall figure on her chest whispered something again.

 

And they smiled with it.

 

Vi couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t move.

 

And now she wasn’t sure if she was even awake anymore.

 

Powder stirred under her blanket, eyes fluttering open. She groaned softly, rubbing her face and blinking in the moonlight. Her legs dangled off the side of the bottom bunk as she sat up, one hand reaching out for the little flashlight she kept under her pillow for bathroom trips.

 

She paused.

 

Usually by now, she would’ve heard Vi snoring. It was loud and annoying and weirdly comforting. Powder always teased her for it in the morning—but tonight…

 

Silence.

 

“Vi?” she whispered, blinking upward into the shadows. “You awake?”

 

No answer.

 

She frowned and got to her feet, climbing the side of the bunk with the flashlight wobbling in her hand. The dim beam flickered over the edge of the top mattress—

 

And her heart stopped.

 

“Vi?” she breathed again, voice cracking.

 

Vi’s eyes were wide open. Her mouth hung slack like she was gasping for air, but no sound came out.

 

She wasn’t moving.

 

Her chest didn’t rise.

 

Her skin—

Powder’s tiny fingers touched her sister’s arm—

It was cold. Clammy. Her face was gray.

 

Vi’s lips had gone bluish-pale.

 

Powder dropped the flashlight and screamed.

 

“VI! VANDER! VI—SHE’S—SOMETHING’S WRONG!”

 

Her scream cracked through the house like a lightning bolt.

 

Mylo shot up, yelping as he smacked his head against the bunk above him.

“WH-WHAT?! WHAT THE HELL!?”

Claggor jolted up with a confused grunt, squinting upward.

“Vi?! Powder what’s—oh shit.”

 

“LOOK AT HER!” Powder wailed. “SHE’S NOT—SHE’S NOT BREATHING! HER FACE—HER FACE—”

 

The boys scrambled up in a panic, the room suddenly chaos—footsteps thudding overhead—

 

Then:

 

“MOVE!”

 

Vander’s voice roared down the staircase like thunder.

 

He burst through the bedroom door in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants, eyes already wide with fear as he saw all three kids huddled around Vi’s bunk.

 

Vander didn’t waste a second. He grabbed the edge of the bed and hauled himself up beside her.

 

“Vi. VI.” His hand cupped her face. “Hey—hey, breathe baby girl. Come on now.”

 

His eyes scanned her body—

Chest flat.

Face pale.

Lips blue.

 

Her pulse. He reached down, two fingers pressed gently against her neck. It was there, but erratic. Racing.

 

He looked at her eyes. They were open. Darting left and right. Unfocused. Not blinking.

 

“Sleep paralysis,” Vander muttered under his breath. “She’s stuck.”

 

The kids stared up at him, frozen.

 

“SHE’S NOT BLINKING!” Powder sobbed. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER!?”

 

“She’s dreaming,” Vander said quickly, trying to stay calm. “She can’t move—can’t talk. But she’s in there. And she’s scared.”

 

Vi’s whole body trembled faintly under his hands, like her heart was trying to beat its way through her chest.

 

“She can’t see us,” Vander said, voice thick. “She can’t hear us right. Not like this.”

 

He grabbed her cold hand and squeezed it tight.

 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, shaking her lightly. “It’s just a dream, you hear me? You’re not alone. I’m right here. We all are. You’re not gonna die in this bed. Not on my watch.”

 

Mylo was crying now.

Claggor had turned away, biting his sleeve, pale with fear.

Powder was screaming, clutching Vi’s blanket, tears streaming down her face.

 

“Please wake her up!” she sobbed. “She’s scaring me!”

 

“I am, baby,” Vander said. “I am.”

 

He stroked Vi’s hair, voice trembling.

“C’mon, fighter. Come back to us. You’re stronger than this. You’re not done yet.”

 

Vi’s eyes kept darting. Her mouth still hung open. Her body unmoving.

 

But inside that frozen shell—

She was screaming.

 

It was going to eat her.

 

The creature was stretching itself out, looming like smoke rising and swallowing the sky. Its mouth had torn across the entire width of its face now—impossibly wide, dripping black, filled with rows of twisting, crooked teeth.

 

It was hovering above her. Grinning.

 

Vi couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. Her body was still trapped, every muscle stiff with terror. Her heartbeat thudded like it wanted to break through her ribs.

 

Then she saw it—

 

Right behind the thing—

Two bodies. Crumpled. Still. Familiar.

 

Her parents.

 

No eyes. Skin pale. Their mouths gaping open.

 

The thing turned its head. Leaned back. And devoured them.

 

No noise. No chewing. Just darkness swallowing light.

 

Vi’s mind broke open like a dam.

 

She thrashed inside herself, begging to wake up, trying to scream, to kick, to fight, to do something—

 

And then—

 

Hands.

Real ones.

 

Pulling her.

 

Dragging her up.

 

GASP—

 

Air.

 

Vi shot upright in bed, eyes wide, body drenched in sweat. Her lungs collapsed inward before she finally gasped hard, choking on the first full breath she’d taken in what felt like years.

 

Her body jerked, arms trembling, shoulders curling in on themselves as she sobbed hysterically—loud, broken, shaking.

 

“Vi—”

 

Vander didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight, anchoring hug.

 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re okay, baby girl,” he whispered, rocking her. “You’re safe. You’re back. Just breathe.”

 

Vi clung to him like she was drowning, burying her face in his chest, sobbing so hard it made her cough. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her hands clutched his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

 

“It’s okay,” he kept saying. “You’re here. You’re alright now. You’re not alone.”

 

Her whole body shook. Sweat made her skin cold and clammy. Her face was pale, lips still tinged faintly blue.

 

She turned her head—just for a second—and looked at the bunk. At the top mattress she had just come out of.

 

And her face crumpled.

 

“No—no, no—I don’t wanna—Vander, please—I can’t be in here—”

 

“You don’t have to, kiddo. You don’t.”

 

He gently lifted her off the bed, still holding her close, one hand stroking her soaked hair while the other rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles.

 

Behind him, the room was silent.

 

Powder stood frozen in the corner, hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes. Mylo was stiff, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. Claggor didn’t say anything—just gripped the edge of the desk and stared.

 

They had never seen Vi like this.

 

She was their protector. Their leader. The one who never broke. Never cried. Never flinched.

 

But now…

 

She looked tiny. Shaking in Vander’s arms like a leaf in the wind.

 

“She’s okay,” Vander said gently, mostly for them now. “She’s just scared. Real scared. But she’s okay now.”

 

Vi clutched his shirt tighter. Her voice finally broke through, tiny and cracked:

“I saw them eat Mom and Dad.”

 

Vander’s arms tightened. He pressed a kiss into her temple.

“That wasn’t real,” he said softly. “That was the nightmare talkin’. I’m here now. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

 

She nodded into his chest. She didn’t stop crying. But slowly—slowly—the gasping turned into whimpers. The shaking softened.

 

She still didn’t want to go back in the room. Not even for a second.

 

And Vander didn’t make her.

 

Vi didn’t sleep.

 

Not for one second.

 

She was still wearing the same sweat-drenched shirt from the night before, her skin clammy, her hair matted to her forehead. Now she sat at the bar in the corner of the safehouse kitchen, knees pulled up onto the stool, arms folded across her chest like a shield.

 

She was fidgeting constantly—one leg bouncing under the counter, fingers picking at the torn edge of a napkin, jaw clenched so tight it looked like her teeth might crack.

 

Vander stood a few feet away behind the counter, drying off glasses with a dish rag, but his eyes kept flicking to her.

 

It was nearly 6 a.m. now. The others were still upstairs, sleeping.

 

But Vi?

 

She hadn’t even blinked for too long.

 

Her eyes were red-rimmed and glossy. Her face pale.

 

Vander dried off the last glass, set it down with a quiet clink, and reached into the fridge.

 

“Drink this.”

 

Vi looked up as he slid a cold glass of orange juice across the counter to her.

 

She didn’t say anything. Just reached out with a trembling hand, wrapped her fingers around it, and took a small sip.

 

“Thanks,” she murmured hoarsely.

 

Vander watched her for a long second. “Still not tired?”

 

Vi didn’t answer right away. Her leg bounced faster.

 

“I’m tired,” she finally said, barely above a whisper. “I just can’t…”

 

She trailed off.

 

Can’t sleep.

 

Vander sighed, folded his arms, and leaned forward on the counter. “I’ve seen sleep paralysis before, kiddo. You wake up, can’t move, see some spooky shadows… but most folks forget it in an hour. You—”

 

“I remember everything,” Vi snapped before she could stop herself. Her voice cracked. “I remember his mouth. I remember not breathing. I remember it eating them. Everything.”

 

Vander’s expression softened instantly.

 

Vi bit her cheek and looked away. Her fingers gripped the glass too tight. “It was real. I know it wasn’t, but it was. It felt real. Like it happened. I thought I was gonna die right there in that bed.”

 

She took another sip of juice, blinking hard.

 

Vander let the silence stretch for a few seconds. Then he leaned in.

 

“Y’know what causes more sleep paralysis?”

 

Vi glanced at him.

 

“No sleep,” he said simply. “Body gets stressed. Mind breaks down. Dream and reality start to twist together.”

 

Vi didn’t say anything.

 

Vander reached over and gently took the glass from her hand, setting it aside.

 

“Look at me.”

 

She did. Slowly. Tired, wary.

 

“You’re not dyin’ tonight. Not on my watch. But if you keep this up—keep pushing yourself like this—” He paused, voice thick with something close to fear. “It’ll come back. You’ll be too weak to fight it. And one day you won’t wake up. You hear me?”

 

Vi’s eyes welled up. But she nodded.

 

“I’ll watch you,” Vander promised, his voice low and steady. “You fall asleep, I’ll be right there. The second anything happens—if you twitch, if you breathe weird, if your eyes move—I’ll shake you awake.”

 

She was silent for a moment. Then she whispered, “What if I don’t wake up?”

 

Vander reached out and placed a strong, calloused hand on top of her fidgeting ones.

 

“Then I’ll pull you back again. Just like I did last night.”

 

Her lip quivered.

 

She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t cry. She just let out the faintest breath—half a sob, half a sigh—and leaned her head against his arm.

 

Vander didn’t move.

 

He just stayed right there. Watching.

 

Waiting.

Vi fell asleep in seconds.

 

One minute she was sitting at the bar, head drooping against Vander’s arm—and the next, she was out cold on his chest, curled up like a little kid.

 

Vander didn’t move.

 

Not when her breathing evened out.

Not when her whole body went slack.

Not even when his foot went numb or his back started to ache from staying in the same position.

 

She was asleep. And for the first time in a week, it was deep. Real. Safe.

 

He wasn’t risking waking her for anything.

 

“Claggor!” Vander called over his shoulder without raising his voice too much.

 

Claggor peeked around the corner, still chewing on a piece of toast. “Yeah?”

 

“Kitchen’s yours today. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Use anything you want—just don’t burn it.”

 

Claggor blinked. “All three meals?”

 

Vander nodded toward Vi, who was still completely out cold on him. “I ain’t gettin’ up, and she ain’t wakin’ up. Not anytime soon.”

 

Claggor glanced at Vi and nodded. “Got it.”

 

A minute later: “Mylo!”

 

A crash from upstairs. “WHAT?!”

 

“Put a closed sign on the door!” Vander called. “Bar’s not open today!”

 

“What?! It’s Saturday!”

 

“It’s closed.”

 

There was a long silence. Then a muttered, “Fine,” and the sound of grumbling footsteps heading for the door.

 

Meanwhile, Powder had already crept up beside them with a soft blue blanket in her arms. She gently draped it over Vi’s back, making sure not to shift her too much.

 

“She’s still asleep?” she whispered.

 

Vander nodded, keeping his voice low. “Like a rock.”

 

“I brought you this,” Powder added, holding up a book. “In case you’re stuck there for a while.”

 

He chuckled softly, ruffling her hair with one hand while cradling Vi with the other. “Thanks, little mouse.”

 

Powder sat beside them for a bit, her head resting on Vander’s side, watching Vi sleep.

 

“She looks… okay now,” she whispered after a while.

 

“Yeah,” Vander murmured. “She does.”

 

 

 

The hours passed slowly. The bar stayed dark. The city buzzed on without them.

 

Vi didn’t wake.

 

Not once.

 

No flinching.

No gasping.

No rapid eye movement.

 

Just quiet, steady breathing.

 

By 5 p.m., Vander still hadn’t moved. His legs had long gone numb, but he didn’t care. His hand stayed gently on Vi’s back, rising and falling with every breath she took.

 

He looked down at her peaceful face.

 

No tension in her brow.

No twitching.

No nightmares.

 

Just sleep.

 

Real, healing sleep.

 

And still—no sleep paralysis.

 

After everything… it was finally gone.

 

He exhaled slowly, relaxing back against the booth.

 

“Sleep as long as you want, kiddo,” he whispered. “You earned it.”

 

Chapter 2: Proof in the Dark

Eight years later.

 

The nightmares never came back.

 

Not like that.

 

Vi still had the occasional rough night—tossing, turning, muttering under her breath—but nothing close to the darkness that haunted her at fourteen.

 

And right now, she looked like peace itself.

 

Caitlyn flipped a page quietly, her reading glasses slipping just slightly down her nose. The soft glow of the bedside lamp lit her book, but her eyes had drifted off the words at least five minutes ago.

 

They were resting on Vi.

 

She was sprawled across their bed like a giant, tattooed cat. One leg dangling lazily off the side, the other half-tucked under a pillow. Her arm draped over Caitlyn’s lap. Mouth slightly parted, breathing slow and even.

 

Adorable.

 

Caitlyn smiled softly, gently adjusting Vi’s messy pink hair and letting her fingers run along her scalp. Vi twitched slightly at the touch, murmured something incoherent, and buried her face further into the pillow with a content little grunt.

 

Caitlyn’s heart swelled.

 

She set her book aside on the nightstand, removed her glasses, folded them neatly, and reached to turn off the lamp.

 

The room darkened, blanketed in soft shadows and moonlight pooling through the window.

 

Vi didn’t stir.

 

Caitlyn lay down slowly, careful not to shift Vi’s arm too much, and pulled the blanket up over them both.

 

She pressed a soft kiss to Vi’s temple.

 

“You’re safe,” she whispered, even though Vi couldn’t hear her. “Always.”

 

Vi sighed quietly, as if her body knew.

 

Caitlyn smiled again.

 

And with her hand still resting in Vi’s hair, she closed her eyes and fell asleep beside the woman she loved.

Vi woke abruptly but couldn’t move.

 

The familiar dread flooded her senses like a tidal wave—her heart pounding, breath stuck in her throat, muscles frozen.

 

This time, she was lying on her side. Her foot dangled off the edge of the bed.

 

Her eyes flicked to the doorway.

 

There it was—the tall, dark figure. Silent. Faceless. Waiting.

 

Caitlyn wasn’t in sight, but Vi could hear her steady breathing somewhere nearby, just out of reach.

 

A cold breeze brushed across her exposed foot.

 

No. No. No.

 

Her skin prickled. The chill deepened, sinking into her bones.

 

The shadow moved, dropping down onto all fours, crawling slowly, deliberately toward her.

 

Then, the worst.

 

She felt it—spiders. Crawling, skittering all over her body, slipping into her mouth, squeezing her throat.

 

Her foot was freezing now, colder than any winter wind, despite no fans or windows open.

 

The terror was worse than before.

 

The figure was right in front of her now—its faceless head inches from hers.

 

Vi shut her eyes tight, hoping to escape.

 

But then—sharp, cold pain sliced through her chest like claws.

 

Long fingers slashed her skin, reached inside her mouth, choking her from the inside out.

 

She gasped silently, suffocating, stabbed by invisible knives.

 

Please, she thought. Wake me up. Someone—anyone—please.

 

But her body stayed frozen.

 

Trapped.

 

Alone.

 

Vi’s heart was racing.

 

No—slamming.

 

Thudding in her ears like a war drum, clawing its way past 200 beats per minute. Her chest hurt from it. Her throat burned.

 

She still couldn’t move. Still couldn’t scream. The faceless shadow leaned closer—right in her face.

 

Then, without warning, it dropped.

 

Slid under the bed.

 

Gone.

 

No—wait. Behind her.

 

Vi couldn’t turn her head, but she heard it. Heard the squelch, the low crackling chewing noise—like bones breaking and something wet being swallowed.

 

It was trying to eat Caitlyn.

 

Vi wanted to scream, to reach for her, warn her—

But she was still paralyzed, still trapped in her own body.

 

Then—silence.

 

The shadow slithered back under the bed, disappearing from behind her.

 

A second later, something grabbed her ankle.

 

Yanked.

 

Again.

And again.

And again.

 

Vi’s body jerked awake like a crash landing.

 

She screamed—raw, panicked, real.

 

Yanked her leg up, clutching it close to her chest, sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

 

“Vi?!” Caitlyn sat bolt upright, blinking fast, her voice filled with concern. “Vi, love—hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

 

Vi was hysterical.

 

“It was under—it was under the bed—” she choked out between sobs. “It pulled me, it pulled my leg over and over—don’t look under the bed! Please, Cait—don’t look!”

 

Caitlyn froze for a split second, hand halfway reaching for the floor.

 

Her heart dropped. Vi wasn’t just scared—she was in a full-blown panic.

 

“Okay. Okay, I won’t,” Caitlyn said immediately, shifting closer, hands hovering as if she was scared to startle her. “I promise. I’m not gonna look. Just breathe with me, alright?”

 

Vi’s hands were shaking violently. Her body was curled up, face buried into her knees, gasping so hard it didn’t even sound human.

 

Caitlyn touched her shoulder, then gently reached for her wrist.

 

“Oh my God… Vi, your heart…”

 

The pulse under her fingers was racing—203 beats per minute.

 

Caitlyn’s voice stayed calm, even though she was panicking on the inside.

 

“Breathe with me. Please, darling. In—” she inhaled slowly, loudly so Vi could hear it. “—and out. Just like that. You’re here. You’re safe. It’s gone. I’ve got you.”

 

Vi tried to copy her but kept choking on her sobs, hyperventilating, body trembling violently.

 

“It’s okay, you’re doing so good—so good, Vi.” Caitlyn wrapped her arms around her now, gently pulling her into her lap. “I’m here. You’re not alone. That thing can’t touch you here. Not with me here. I won’t let it.”

 

Vi clutched her like a lifeline, gasping, trembling, tears soaking through Caitlyn’s shirt.

 

“I’ve got you,” Caitlyn whispered again, rocking them both gently. “I’ve always got you.”

 

Vi’s heart was finally starting to slow, her body sagging in Caitlyn’s arms as the sobs turned to shaky breaths and whimpers.

 

But Caitlyn noticed something.

 

“Wait—your ankle…” she murmured, gently shifting the blanket.

 

Vi flinched hard, still trembling. “It’s freezing,” she whispered hoarsely.

 

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. Her fingertips brushed over Vi’s foot—and it was ice cold. But worse…

 

“…Vi. You’re bleeding.”

 

Vi blinked, eyes wide and still puffy. “W-What?”

 

Caitlyn brought the bedside lamp back on. There it was: a scratch—thin but fresh—right at Vi’s ankle.

 

“That’s not your imagination,” Caitlyn said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady as she cradled Vi’s foot in her lap. “It actually got you?”

 

Vi sniffled. “I-I don’t know. It felt so real. It was in my mouth, Cait. It was in me.”

 

“Okay. Hey. Just breathe,” Caitlyn whispered, sliding closer. “Let me check you.”

 

Vi gave a weak nod, too dazed to fight it. Caitlyn gently tilted her chin, brushing the hair from her face. She examined her lips, throat, chest—all the places Vi had said it stabbed, choked, clawed.

 

“No marks,” Caitlyn said softly. “Just the ankle… thank the stars.”

 

Vi whimpered. “Cait, I thought I was dying.”

 

“I know, love. I know.”

 

Caitlyn gently pulled her back into her arms.

 

“Do you… do you want me to check under the bed?” she asked quietly.

 

Vi’s eyes widened, but she didn’t shake her head this time.

 

“…Do you want to?” Vi croaked.

 

“If it’ll help,” Caitlyn said with a soft smile.

 

Vi hesitated, then gave a small, frightened nod.

 

Caitlyn leaned over the edge of the bed, slowly pulling up the blanket. She squinted into the shadows—then frowned.

 

A faint rustling.

 

“…Oh my god,” she breathed.

 

She reached in—then pulled out a little ball of orange fluff tangled in a sock.

 

“Vander,” she scolded gently. “You little demon.”

 

The orange cat blinked up at her innocently, tail swishing, then pounced back onto the bed like he hadn’t just scared the soul out of both his moms.

 

Vi blinked. “Wait—he did that?”

 

Caitlyn smiled, setting the cat in her lap. “He must’ve grabbed your ankle in his playing. The rest—your brain filled in the blanks.”

 

Vi covered her face, breathing still shaky, but now flushed. “Oh my god. That’s so stupid.”

 

“Hey, hey,” Caitlyn said, gently tugging her hands away. “No it’s not. It felt real, and your body reacted like it was real. This isn’t stupid, Vi. You were terrified.”

 

Vi nodded slowly, still trembling as Caitlyn grabbed a glass of water and pressed it to her lips.

 

She took a sip. Then another. Then looked down at her hands.

 

“It happened once before,” she said quietly. “When I was fifteen. Or fourteen. I forgot about it because… it never came back. Until now.”

 

Caitlyn stroked her hair, her fingers soft and slow. “And this time was worse?”

 

Vi gave a tiny nod. “Way worse.”

 

Without a word, Caitlyn guided Vi’s head down to her chest, wrapping her arms around her protectively.

 

“No one’s going to hurt you,” she whispered into Vi’s hair. “Not while I’m here.”

 

Vi’s eyes fluttered shut against Caitlyn’s collarbone.

 

“I’ve got you.”

 

Caitlyn kissed her head. “Always.”

 

 

 

Vi never had sleep paralysis again after that.

 

Not with Caitlyn holding her through the dark.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Arcane horror stories